Christmas Day

 I now feel like an idiot for all my moaning about being away from cold, rainy England at Christmas; it’s safe to say that, despite missing my nearest and dearest like crazy, this Christmas has been one of the best yet! I actually spent Christmas Eve the same way I would if I was at home: with a very large glass of Baileys watching Home Alone (if you replace having to scoop a tilting glass out of my Nan’s hand as she snoozes with Cornish friends and spag bol). I got an early night in preparation for all the excitement of the next day’s festivities.

The small children within Jess and I were wide awake at 6:30am and, after the exchange of hugs and a bit of jumping around, shared stories of family Christmas traditions while waiting for the remaining youths to arrive. Every Christmas morning since forever, even now I’m a “grown-up”, I go into my parents’ room (sometimes at ungodly hours) and before anything else can happen, they ask “Has he been?” and I run downstairs to check out the previously empty space under the tree for presents. Once I know the big man has delivered the goods, I run back upstairs shouting “He’s been! He’s been!” and we’re then allowed to go have breakfast in our pjs and start opening treats. Weird I know, but it’s the way things go down in the Stephens household. Despite being a very scary 22, I’m sure I’ll be doing it this time next year. Candice, Chris, John, Chloe and Oli arrived at 8am with their arms full of presents and booze and we cracked open the champagne in the garden, where it was already heating up. Candice and Chris’ adorable miniature bulldog Walter was looking very smart in his Christmas collar and he and Johnnie, who had naughtily found and opened his new chew toy from under the tree, caused absolute chaos.

We gathered in the lounge around the tree to wage war on the mountain of presents stacked up under the tree. I say under the tree, but there were so many they covered practically the whole floor. The McKiernans do the unwrapping a bit different to us and I kind of liked it; they just chuck the parcels at the right people all in one go instead of doing them one by one and everyone watching the person unwrap it like we do. It was a very exciting half hour, during which I received a lovely little mound of gifts. Terry and Maggs bought me a gorgeous top and purse and a stack of choccies, Jess got me some more tasty treats and I got an awesome pair of flowery shoes from Candi, who was my secret Santa. Chris loved the crazy foreign beers and glass I got him. I also got a little taste of home with some parcels all the way from Camelford; my parents got me a top, scarf, some pretty bracelets and a book of short Christmas stories by Dickens. The star of the show present-wise was the wheelbarrow Terry and Maggs had spent hours wrapping for Chris and it reminded me of another family tradition, which is my Nan looking at the shape of a present and guessing what it is, usually getting it right and wrecking the surprise. We still say “I wonder what it is” when someone gets one of a particularly distinctive shape!

With the presents all opened, we left our new treats for later and Terry whipped up an incredible breakfast of crepes with banana, butterscotch sauce and ice cream, washed down with more champagne. After our first feast of the day, the young ones (minus Jess, who drove to Meelup to visit her boyfriend Pete who was lifeguarding there) hopped in the cars and drove down to Yallingup so the boys could go for a Christmas day surf. Us girls basked in the sun and swam with Walter, who drew a lot of female admirers with his cuteness! The beach was absolutely packed with people enjoying the sun and it was so cool to see that the ocean is as big a part of the Christmas tradition here as a good roast is for us in the UK. Jess stuck fast to her reputation for getting into trouble when she called us to say she had come down to join us and bogged her car in a massive pothole in the bush and couldn’t get out. We checked it out when the boys came out of the water and she’d done too good a job to be rescued by Chris’ truck, so we abandoned it for the day and returned home.

Walter doing a bit of navigating

The table in the garden was looking amazing, ready for the upcoming feast, and the weather was just gorgeous, so we set about concocting our beverage of choice: Pomegranate punch! We made it in a huge glass bowl with a tap in it and it looked delicious with fresh mint, lime, cucumber and pomegranate. Armed with a big glass of punch, we pulled crackers as the starter was served up. We had giant prawns coated in coconut and a mango and lime salad, which was of course delicious and a big change from the prawn cocktail or soup we have at home. The next hour was spent drinking, sunbathing and playing with our toys when lunch was prepared. Oh my good lord, what a spread! Here’s the mouthwatering menu:

Skewered giant Bali prawns in chilli

Whole crayfish barbecued in Gran Marnier and garlic butter

Apricot and clove ham

Slow cooked turkey

Duck fat crushed roast potatoes

Beetroot, feta and spinach salad

Mango and lime salad

I cannot even describe how good it all was and we all had at least three helpings, stuffing ourselves silly. The fact that we had all eaten an obscene amount and were harbouring food babies made stripping off to our bathers for a muck around in the pool a lot less daunting. We took our drinks in (frantically covering them with our hands when the boys, including Terry, bombed us) and had a hilarious few hours of synchronised swimming, diving, racing in inflatables and generally being big kids. When we’d dried off and returned to the table, it was time for my number one weakness: Pudding. Another impressive spread of Christmas cake, mango ice cream bombe with white chocolate sauce, plum pudding and custard and Black Forrest trifle was served up, plus homemade shortbread and macaroons. How I am not 20 stone by now is a total mystery to me! The time came to play games in the garden, which was timely as I don’t think I could have held another morsel. Terry had been given quoits (the rope rings that you throw over the stick) and, when they’d finished almost wetting themselves laughing, Chris and Oli said that quoit is another word for bumhole in Cornwall. I’m sure Dad would have known this, but I was none the wiser!

Quoits!

Evening rolled round in a punch-induced haze and we grabbed some beers and headed over the road to the lifeguards’ house for a party. They were just finishing up their dinner, so we drank a lot of beer in a savage game of drinking table tennis downstairs. Pete, Adam and Craig were there, who I met when I arrived here, plus Danny, Janek, Alex and Sian’s boyfriend Skipper. They were all very drunk and a great laugh and by the time I left for my bed, everyone was very merry, including myself. The next morning, Jess said that the others borrowed the boys’ bikes to cycle home to Candice and Chris’ and the ride was interesting to say the least, with everyone stacking it several times. Don’t drink and ride, kids! Oli fell off in someone’s driveway, where a huge scary dog was coming towards him as he scrambled to get moving again. I managed to squeeze in a lovely albeit quick Skype with my family and it was great to see all their faces gathered around the living room to talk to me. I absolutely loved my hot Christmas; bring on the Boxing Day leftovers!